Adèle Dubois eBook

The missionary, who since the early spring had been
laboring up and down the rivers St. John and Miramichi,
now concluded to return to his family for the coming
winter. Such had been his intention and his promise
to Mrs. Norton, when he left home. He was induced
to go at this particular time partly by the hope of
rendering some service to Mr. Lansdowne during his
journey, and partly in order to see Mrs. Lansdowne
and impart to her the particulars of her brother’s
residence and illness at Miramichi. A scheme
of mercy on the part of the good man.

On the return of Mr. Dubois to his house, he found
a package of letters, which, in the confusion and
anxiety of the previous day, had remained unopened.
There was one from the Count de Rossillon, announcing
the death of the Countess. He wrote as if deeply
depressed in mind, speaking of the infirmities of
age weighing heavily upon him, and of his loneliness,
and imploring Mr. Dubois to come, make his abode at
the chateau and take charge of the estate, which, at
his death, he added, would pass into the possession
of Mrs. Dubois and Adele.

Mrs. Dubois’s heart beat with delight and her
eyes swam with tears of pleasure, at the prospect
of once more returning to her beloved Picardy.
Yet her joy was severely chastened by the loss of the
Countess, whom she had fondly loved.

Adele felt a satisfaction in the anticipation of being
restored to the dignities of Rossillon, which she
was too proud to manifest.

Mr. Dubois alone hesitated in entertaining the idea
of a return. His innate love of independence,
together with a remembrance of the early antipathy
the Count had shown to the marriage with his niece,
made the thought repellant to him. A calmer consideration,
however, changed his view of the case. He recollected
that the Count had at last consented to his union
with Mrs. Dubois, and reflected that the infirmities
and loneliness of the Count laid on them obligations
they should not neglect. He found, also, that
his own love of home and country, now that it could
at last with propriety be gratified, welled up and
overflowed like a newly sprung fountain.

The tornado had spent itself, the fire had rushed
on to the ocean, the atmosphere had became comparatively
clear and the weather cool and bracing.

On the evening before the departure of Mr. Norton
and Mr. Lansdowne, the family met, as on many previous
occasions, in the Madonna room. In itself, the
apartment was as cheerful and attractive as ever, but
each one present felt a sense of vacancy, a shrinking
of the heart. The sunny changeful glow of one
bright face was no longer there, and the shadows of
approaching separation cast a gloom over the scene.

These people, so strangely thrown together in this
wild, obscure region of Miramichi, drawn hither by
such differing objects of pursuit, bound by such various
ties in life, occupying such divergent positions in
the social scale, had grown by contact and sympathy
into a warm friendship toward each other. Their
daily intercourse was now to be broken up, the moment
of adieu drew nigh, and the prospect of future meeting
was, to say the least, precarious. Was it strange
that some sharp pangs of regret filled their hearts?